


Some people lose but I get all the fun

by PandaRum



Series: Bury Your Bones Deep [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angel Stiles, Dark Character, Death, Demon Lydia, F/M, Hunters, Just Lydia's day job, Omg!!, Sheriff is finding things out now!!, The Sheriff upsets Stiles, and Lydia really does love the angel, crossroad demon - Freeform, making deals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaRum/pseuds/PandaRum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a demon it's hard to love, but Sama'el makes it easy for her and because she loves him she's willing to let things go, things she wants. Also it's totally Sama'el's fault that she's stuck doing this. That and he always knows how do have fun, expecally when she's been good to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some people lose but I get all the fun

**Author's Note:**

> A few things are in order. 
> 
> So this is un'beta'ed so every mistake is mine. Yay....
> 
> Second. So in case no one looked up who Izyebel was, she was the evil wife of Ahab, who tired to kill Elijah the Prophet and was torn apart by dogs. Hence the fear for dogs and wolves. 
> 
> Lamia, Izyebel's choosen demon name, is a demon who eats children. But in the au Lamia wants children and the wolves are the ones who eat them. Because people don't know this they claim her as a child-eating demon. 
> 
> Sama'el is an archangel who's said to be a accuser, seducer and destroyer. He's known as the angel of war and death and can be regarded as both good and evil. Though he's an important archangel figure he's usually shoved with the grim and destructive duties and wants men to do evil. 
> 
> The hunters in the story are known as the Rotmensen family, a Dutch name. It means "Rotton People" and They will make an apparence again later in the series!!!

“ _What!”_ Izyebel screeched and glared at Sama’el, pulling her hand away from him. “ _What do you mean crossroads?_ ”

“Really Iyzebel, I thought you were smarter than this.”

Stiles!Stiles was different from Stiles!Sama’el. Completely.

If Izyebel hadn’t known better she would have assumed something had possessed the hyper boy. Her Sama’el was stern and funny and sweet and _stern_ , The Stiles was also funny and sweet, but a complete pushover that sometimes she wanted to choke him with her knife, dipped in the rivers of the fifth level and then maybe fuck him because whether he was acting like Stiles or her Sama’el he made her blood boil and her body ache for him.

“Why,” she couldn’t possibly stress the word enough.

“You’ve been neglecting your duties and by doing this you can help out a little. I already talked with your boss. Everything’s in order, you start this weekend.”

Izyebel huffed, glaring at the wall. Her days with Sama’el were going to be cut short because he was such a fucking workaholic. “I hate you.”

“I’m sure you do,” he answered back, folding the last of his t-shirts and Izyebel wasn’t below eyeing his naked chest and the hair that disappeared into his pants. Frowning she shimmed out of her dress, ignoring the way Sama’el raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well since our schedule is being cut in half let’s start fucking. I have a whole weekend to make up in two days and I’m _not_ a happy camper.”

 

===

 

For her official first day of work Izyebel picked her outfit the night before. Modeling everything she had to Sama’el, who leaned back against her headboard, running a thumb over his lips as she danced around in a tight and skimpy dress, only to strip naked and get fucked against her vanity, gasping as her hipbone connected with the wood, a bruise already forming as Sama’el lifted her leg up, bending it at the knee so he could get in deeper. Her pretty green toes barely touched the floor. 

 

===

 

Its older humans at first.

Women who want the body and men the fame. It’s quite funny because she thought it would be the other way around and then realized quickly that with _fame_ there’s money, and where there’s money there’s women. _Women_ with nice rocking bodes.

Izyebel scrunched her nose, sealing the last of her deals as a man, 40 by the looks of it, begged for the love of some 20 yr old _girl_ who wouldn’t have taken a second glance at his balding head and large nose. And even she couldn’t find the willpower to stop looking at his nonexistent chin.  

“Five years,” she stated, grinning when he nodded and leaned up for a kiss. It was sloppy and rushed but the deal was made. “Remember,” she said. “You have five years with this _girl_. Make it last.”

Later it was the young crowd.

Izyebel grinned, showing off sharp, straight teeth, grabbing the shaking girl by her sharp cheeks and pulled her into a warm and sweet kiss. “Have a good life,” she purred, laughing as the girl ran back to her beat down car.

“You enjoy this too much.”

The grin just widened. “But of course. I forgot how good it felt making deals.” She clenched and unclenched a fist, staring at smooth fingers and purple nails.

Sama’el glanced at her, a blank look in his eyes and a shiver ran through her. Either he was aroused or disgusted and really she couldn’t tell and she didn’t care. Ok maybe a little but Izyebel could change his mind. Oh boy could she.

Stalking towards him, hips swaying this way and that. Izyebel leaned up, breast pressed up against his solid chest and whimpered into his ear. Long fingers curled around her waist, scrunching up the top of her skirt, making it crawl the length of her thighs.

“Baby, want you so bad.”

And that’s how they fucked on the job.

Really ever since she gained her memory back (and her powers) Izyebel and Sama’el can’t seem to stop touching and whether it was a brush on the back of her hand or a quick and heavy fuck in the tall grasses—that was the more appreciated option—they were always touching.

The pack, even though Izyebel wasn’t suppose to be unaware of anything, had taken this as part of her PTSD, when really it wasn’t. She didn’t need to be comforted because some dog decided to be rabid. Sure she flinched when Scott got close or when Jackson neared her or when Isaac brushed pass and Erica tried to make a grab, but that wasn’t unusual. What was though was Sama’el standing by her side, glaring at Scott, sneering at Jackson and most importantly shoving and ordering the Hale pack to back-the- _fuck_ -up!

“Hmmm, I missed this,” she rubbed her thumb against one of Sama’el’ moles. “Fucking under the warm sun in the ‘gardens’.”

He laughed, dark and uneven as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you mean before we murdered those poor families and their gardener or after they caught us going at it like animals?” Sama’el nipped at her neck and Izyebel stretched.

“Both,” she chuckled, “Liked when you ran your bloody hands over my breasts and down my legs, but liked it even more when the kids hid behind a bush. Watching as we tainted their little minds, thighs aching for your cock and my nice _wet_ pus—” Sama’el growled, shoving her back.

“Love it when you sweet talk me, babe.”

 

===

 

Izyebel didn’t think it would take so long for people she _knew_ to make deals. But as word got around she started noticing something. Everyone she had made deals with previously were all strangers, the people that were coming now were humans like Mrs. Hanns, her next door neighbor—the woman wore too  much pink lipstick—Conni, the school cheerleader—now that had been a surprise—and many more. She even noticed on occasion the Sheriff. But he just sat in his car, staring at where the cross roads met and turned back around.

She had told Sama’el about this multiple times and the boy just blinked at her before nodding, but Izyebel knew he hadn’t done anything. One night though it had gotten too far and Izyebel sighed, brushing back her hair as she watched the Sheriff kneel on the ground, ready to dig only for his hands to freeze midway. The sound of her heals on gravel reached his ears.

Blue eyes stared up at her, confused for a moment and then understanding. “Lydia?”

“Hello Sheriff,” she stopped. “Does Stiles know you’re here?”

“I—”

Izyebel just waved her hand in a shooing manner, “Let me give you the low down,” she started, holding out a hand to pull him up. “You will probably have five years at most. Maybe more if you’re lucky, less if you’re not. But let’s say five. Stiles is what? 17? That means he’ll be about…22 when your deals up. You’ll die and not in a pretty way. If you try to hide or dodge your part of the deal I’ll send hellhounds after you. Then they’ll proceed by ripping you into shreds and dragging you down to hell. Where you’ll be tortured for multiple years maybe even by people you knew and then you’ll be the one doing the torturing and if you’re bad enough—or good enough depending on how you look at it—maybe become a lower level demon.  Now doesn’t that just sound fun?”

The Sheriff just stared down at the ground, lips thinning on his sad face and Izyebel sighed. “I just want her back.”

“She’s in heaven. I don’t think she _needs_ to be back.”

She didn’t see him after that, not at the crossroads anyways, but when she passed him in town or in his own home, he would nod at Izyebel, eyes following her back as she climbed the stairs to Sama’el’ room.

“I talked to John,” she said one day and Sama’el put down his pen, didn’t turn to look at her from his spot at his desk. “He wanted to make a deal. Was all ready to sell his soul.”

“Why didn’t you let him then?”

It made her frown, “I thought you loved him? That’s the only reason why I stopped it…His soul is beautiful. Can you imagine the damage I could do with that?”

“Then you should have made the deal.”

After that…

He stopped calling the Sheriff ‘dad’.

 

===

 

“Do you want to still make that deal?” she asked the Sheriff one day, legs swinging from her place on his counter.

He flinched back, not expecting her there, but instincts told him to draw his gun. He scoffed, pocketing the weapon and frowning at Izyebel. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked a question, John.”

“ _What_ is Stiles?” A bitter grin fit on her lips at his question and the fact that he ignored her’s yet again.

Dropping down to the floor, she twisted around him, heading out the kitchen before pausing. “Your wife knew. Maybe you should look up what his name means and then you’ll have your answer.”

 

===

 

It wasn’t unusual for Sama’el to do something special for her, but it was unusual for him to pull up to a large house with a white picket fence. And what was even more odd was the eight heartbeats and the smell of silver, silver, and _silver._ Izyebel wrinkled her nose at the taste of old blood and salt and well, it smelled like hunter.

“What’s this?” she had asked when he put his jeep into park.

Sama’el turned, bringing a hand to brush her strawberry hair out of her face and leaned in to nip at the bottom of her lip, “Because you deserve it.”

Usually she didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth but this was making her skeptical, “Sama’el?”

He sighed, letting his hand drop, “Because…you were willing to let John go for my sake.” She didn’t bother going into more detail, knowing it made him uncomfortable to take about the people who _‘brought’ him into this world_. Satisfied with his answer she all but ran to the door.

It was time to have fun!

 

===

 

“God I missed this,” Izyebel rubbed her bloody fingers down Sama’el’s bare arms and stepped over the fallen body of a hunter, letting the angelic lover pull her into a slow dance.

The romantic was in the air was Sama’el lifted her up, twirling Izyebel like she was weightless and maybe to him she was and every time he set her down, the insides of her toes sloshed with blood. The blood that belong to the Rotmensen Family, the hunters that they _murdered_. A tiny thrill went through Izyebel’s body. It has been years since she’s done something like this and even longer since she’s done with with Sama’el.

Feeling giddy Izyebel giggled, wrapping her arms around Sama’el’s shoulders, feet stepping on small fingers. And all though it didn’t faze her, she glanced down. Taking in the blonde hair of the teen who shoved a knife into Sama’el’s chest. Of course she was going to admit it, it wasn’t her best moment when she snapped the girl’s neck in rage, a roar ripping out of her throat as she shoved everyone back, bodies pressed hard into the walls as blood slipped from their pores.

“I love you,” she whispered into his mouth.

“I love you more.” It was at these moments that Izyebel was glad for the sins she committed her first time around because then she wouldn’t have this man, this angel.

Izyebel giggled as they tripped over a woman. A _pregnant_ woman who was still breathing from the looks of it, “Hunters,” she sighed, shaking her head, and Sama’el mocked back, hand thrusting into a still beating chest, ripping out the bloody heart.

 

 

 


End file.
